


lost it to trying (mouths only lying)

by anathvma



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dystopia, Mutant Powers, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 07:59:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11413587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anathvma/pseuds/anathvma
Summary: If I can’t have love,if I can’t find peace,Give me a bitter glory.—Anna Akhmatova, Rosary





	1. Prologue

Death came to me in the form of a man and woman alike. It had no face, no features to pick up on. Once my last breath had left my lungs at last I’ve felt it. Ghost hands brushing against my cooling skin. Soothing whispers in my ear. They were fickle, meaningless. 

Yet, Death felt like an epiphany. It didn’t give meaning to life. It didn’t give meaning to anything, really. Quite the contrary, Death had ripped meaning away from me. The most important thing in one’s life. After all, what every creature strives for is meaning. Especially to me, an angry and bitter girl who sought nothing more than greatness, meaning was everything.

The bullet in my chest made me a martyr. Yet, in the eyes of Death, it ceased to be. 

Everything I had achieved – ceased to be. 

Death came to me in the form of a man and a woman alike. So you understand, I didn’t take it well when it tried to strip me of my FUCKING PURPOSE.


	2. the dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _  
> she would make herself a reckoning._
> 
> _she would rise.  
>  _
> 
>  
> 
> ―Leigh Bardugo, Siege and Storm  
> 

She is seated to the left of her father. Too far away from Duncan. Not far enough from her mother. She tries to hide behind a carefully manufactured mask of indifference. 

Yet on the inside, she wants to scream. 

Her father stands up for a toast. She hopes he chokes on his wine while she rises next to him, as does the rest of her family and their guests. Her cunning mind doesn’t miss the fact that most of the attendants’ offspring are male. Marriage. Of course. The thought should ring inside her like a bell, but she just feels more dark and grim. 

The emerald dress they forced her into is too tight, she feels trapped, caged. She is sure it is trying to choke the life out of her. They are trying to tame her with this silken robe. But they will never tame her, not ever.

As the evening progresses, many come forward to introduce themselves. None of them seem good enough in the eyes of her father. He looks for the right partner in arms and money. The war has taken its toll on Lichts people. It has taken the best as a price and left us with the worst to starve with.

Next in line are the old warlord of Lichts Court of Arms and his son. The General appears to be the age of her father. Maybe forty years old. He has seen better days. His arms are too old, the wrinkles too deep. His hair is already gray as is his beard. He is still handsome with his tanned skin, she thinks. The God of War and Darkness must’ve blessed their kin. Never has she seen a man like him. There is still a certain softness to his edges. She wonders what he is like as a father, what it must be like to be his child, his son, his daughter.

She smiles at him, tilting her head like a doll on a string.

Duncan takes their fathers place with a grace the old man had never possessed. Dessa gives him a more genuine smile. His presence soothes the ill waters inside her. 

While her brother exchanges courtesies with the General she eyes his son with new life. 

He is handsome, just like his father, with high cheekbones, clear blue eyes and deep brown hair. His skin too is the color of sand. He might as well have been washed up on the shores of the sea, made from the sand of her favorite beach. Pretty boy. However, even if she were to beg, her father would refuse him without so much as batting an eye. A soldier, he'd say, who knew how long he will live? He could die in battle by tomorrow and leave her penniless, leave her without anything at all. 

“I’m greatly intrigued to meet the youngest commanding officer in our country's history”, she enters the conversation, leaving behind every manner her nan had tried to hammer into her stubborn head. “What was it like – slaughtering the southern tribes, conquering the savage grass lands and their bestial people?” Not a question expected from a princess. There was too much knowledge, too much passion in her words. What girl at court could ever talk of violence so lovingly and be admired for it? 

Duncan, knowing her best, doesn’t comment at all and lets her have the moment. A reason why she loves her brother so dearly. When it came to men he might be a tint overprotective, but she was his precious twin sister – nothing was too far to reach, too difficult to get for her. In his eyes, she must be just as fragile as a doll indeed. She could never hate him for it.

The General seems taken aback at her boldness. 

His son, however, doesn’t react at all. He doesn’t even flinch. “Dirty.”

She barely holds back a vicious snarl, knowing better than letting her emotions show.

His father clears his throat and bows slightly. “If you will excuse me, Prince, Princess…”

“Proceed”, she replies unnerved and watches the man turn on his heels and disappear into the crowd, leaving his son behind.

Suddenly she feels her heart thundering in her ribcage. Something inside her chest cracks open and releases something different, something dark and maybe even bloody. She knows what to do. 

She turns her attention back to– “What was your name again?”

“It is Tycho, princess.”

“So, will you ask me to dance or not?” Color blooms on her cheeks, only slightly visible through her creamy skin. Odessa might be a princess, but she is still a girl with a weak spot for handsome young men with ocean holding eyes. She can very well imagine Duncan’s stare threatening to stab Tycho should he even think about doing something inappropriate.

* * *

Tycho takes her hand anyway. 

He slides his arm around her waist holds her tight and steady. He takes the lead. She barely lets him. Their eyes lock onto each other and neither breaks the stare. 

What a weird woman, he thinks to himself. Such vexing eyes...

“You don’t look like you are enjoying much of this”, he notes quietly, not really caring for her status as a princess and himself being a mere soldier. He might ride a horse in battle, yet, all that indicates is that he is not cannon fodder. 

Her plain green dress hugs tightly all the right places, tight enough to make every man’s heads turn. 

She raises a brow and all he can do is wonder once again how it is possible for someone to have such irritating eyes. Her lips curl into a sharp smile. What a sweet, cunning girl, he thinks. If he’s not careful he will fall and shatter like glass. Just for another smile, one more look of her he’d walk over the edge of the world. 

For a second he considers what might happen were he to grab her and run away. For a second he thinks she might very much enjoy every second it. For a second they are. How many men would happily walk into the deepest pits of hell for her? Wicked, cunning girl. A beautiful dagger waiting to strike. Danger drips from her edges like blood. He wonders if she knows what an effect she has on the people here, on him.

“Let me tell you something”, she breathes against the music, against the chatter and the wind. Her words silencing the thoughts in his head.

And suddenly it feels like even the Gods are holding their breath, awaiting her next word. The lights seem to dim. Everything is quiet. Darkness all around.

The princess pulls him closer, her body pressed to his. Naturally he steadies her further.

He can feel her breath tickling his ear. He clings to her lips, hungering, anticipating – what? He doesn't know.

“I will carve my name in the skies so our Gods come and see. I will do what it takes until the people chant my name like a prayer, like a blessing, like a curse. They will crown me Queen and build me a ladder to the Halls of the Eternal. And once I am Eternal, I will come back here and burn this filthy city to the ground.”

She is a lunatic. Batshit crazy the soldiers in his camp call women like her.

Yet, he smiles at Odessa. He’d like to see her try.

“Now you have to tell me something. And don’t tell me soldiers don’t have dreams.” She plucks absent-mindedly at his jacket. Never had Tycho expected this to happen when he first spotted her out of the corner of his eye.  
He lowers his head so she can hear him easier, brushing his lips against her cheek, the soft skin of her neck. He is just teasing her, he tells himself. 

So close to her throat he can feel the heat rise from her skin, see the blood thrumming through her veins. He could kill her, here and now. End her vexing, her magic hold over him. Her lime scent courses like poison through his system. Sweet and flowery, girlish, yet something bitter stings his nose. How human she is in spite of all her claims… Another second passes and he’s lost.

“I’m already dancing with a beautiful girl”, he mumbles hoarsely, “And I want to die an old man, in peace and quiet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> songs i listened to.

**Author's Note:**

> songs i listened to.
> 
> i. [devil eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nGVqz4fm_FA) by hippie sabotage


End file.
